Dhalism - CrimeApple

A platypus coppin' stones but do them shits glisten?

A little bird in this kitchen, ain’t that a chicken?

You suckers still rentin' whips and takin' flicks wit em?

(Woah)

This for digi-scales, you sickly and pale, I prevail

You bit your nails, a bad bitch I impale, Ginger Ale

The only time you see grams, that or the nursing home

Submerge ya bone in formaldehyde, while the coward lies

You outta sight and outta mind

I’m Stevie touching wonder bread

Betting on a horse in old Ralph, i’m feeling underdressed

I’m unimpressed, nonetheless I flex, I bet they stress a lot

I tend to not

She watching for the watch with all the lemon drops

I’m popping where it’s never hot

In places where it never snow

Cats ain’t speakin' English, still proceeded to commend a flow

Say Tutti Morti, Sponge on me, squeeze that — you soak

Stash the loaf, hit the gas and go

You want some packs to roach

Bags to smoke

Sugar for your septum, that’s a common twist

In the garden, green and white on me, that’s some Kyrie shit

Lines of this, make every fiend feel fortunate

Copped the Bombay and made it stretch like Dhalsim did

It was foul — like coppin' McRib’s and biting yoga mats

Made it supple with the supplement and made it clone from that

This the shit that make the fiends feel fortunate

Copped the Bombay and it stretched like Dhalsim did (yoga)

We came for cribbo’s with the grotto

Twist gillato, hit the lotto

Looking Guapo, my novela face for, don’t ever hate

Switch the cell, sell shit and celebrate

Sharp teeth — penetrate, I took it as flattery

Naturally, they knew I bleed green like a

Trademarks and patents now, we ain’t finna wrestle now

Hastle how?

Medellin Samoan’s here to pat you down

You shoulda copped 2 of these — fucking with the new regime

20 years from now, Manteca jubilee

I include a view for free, smokers like Jamiroquai

Trip and said the room was spinning, fumes prolly amplified

I’m camera shy

Potent on the footage

Bet I overlooked the hoe that’s lookin'

Probably planned on throwing

She fine and shit

But son just hit my line for this, he coppin' it

Pots and shit, got me cookin' rice on some mami shit

Lines of this, prolly make a fiend feel fortunate

Copped the Bombay and made it stretch like Dhalsim did

It was foul — like coppin' McRib’s and biting yoga mats

Made it supple with the supplement and made it clone from that

This the shit that gon make the fiends feel fortunate

Copped the Bombay and it stretched like Dhalsim did